


Set my soul on fire (make me wild)

by dariawrites



Category: Harry Styles- Fandom, Larry Stylinson- Fandom, Louis Tomlinson- Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, American Football, Anal Sex, Beverly Hills, Blow Jobs, California, Cuddling, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Los Angeles, M/M, Making Out, Mentions of alcohol, Model Harry, Model Louis, New York, One Night Stand, Paris Fashion Week, Photographer Harry, Rimming, Smut, Smut and Angst, Smut and Fluff, Underage Drinking, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25846351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dariawrites/pseuds/dariawrites
Summary: American college/university AU.At only 20 years old, Louis Tomlinson has it all: he's known as the hottest model of his generation, he's witty, intelligent and determined to walk the runway at Paris Fashion Week.He’s supposed to be the golden child of California. Until one day, he isn’t.A one-night stand with the equally gorgeous, up-and-coming model Harry Styles could be all it takes for Louis' dreams to shatter.In a world of high-fashion designers, international runways, polaroid photographs, caramel macchiatos and strange, warm feelings, who will get to walk the Paris Fashion Week first?-or the one in which Harry and Louis are more than just enemies, Niall and Liam are drafted to play for the NFL and Zayn is an artist with a crush.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](%E2%80%9C) tumblr prompt.
> 
> This is the first work I’ve ever written completely in English! As it's not my native language, there might be some spelling/grammar mistakes. Please feel free to point them out!
> 
> I also want to quickly mention  
> [ dolce_piccante](%E2%80%9C) because her works literally changed my life and inspired me to write this fic. Biggest thank you ever! (I hope she’ll see this haha)  
>   
>  **This work contains mentions of recreational drug use and underage drinking/alcohol consumption. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable, I’d advise you to click away. **  
> **  
> Please remember that this is a work of fiction. The boys’ names will be the same as they are in reality for obvious reasons. Any other resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental**  
>   
>  With that being said, I hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at @/goldenxstylinson

April 9, 2020

5 months before Paris Fashion Week

_Music roared in the Alpha Zeta fraternity house, the only house in the campus filled with hundreds of college students and red solo cups on a Thursday night. The air was searing and smelled like alcohol, making Louis lightly scrunch his nose. He didn't really remember how he got there in the first place, but he was glad he did, as his fingers laced with a stranger's, guiding them both upstairs towards the only locked room._

_"Wait. I have a key." the younger boy said, fumbling through the pockets of his black skinny jeans._

_He unlocked the door with shaking hands, opening it with his foot. Kiss-bitten lips melded together. A slammed door. Deep bass entwined with adrenaline flowing through their veins like quicksilver. They stumbled across the room, never parting their lips. Louis pulled back with a loud 'pop', feeling the same burning glare upon his skin he felt all night on the makeshift dance floor._

_The boy in front of him looked absolutely ravishing, standing a few inches taller above him, with messy curly hair and what were once green eyes almost black now. Red heat licked at their vanilla-strawberry scented skin. There was something utterly exciting about keeping secrets so dirty and electric behind four walls and two pairs of aquamarine eyes, hidden away from the stares of curious people, and Louis felt his blood rushing South at the thought of their bodies moving in sync, as if they were made for each other._

_"Come here, baby. I need you."_

_Louis ripped his black shirt away from his body, pushing the other boy on the bed. "Watch me; and if you touch yourself, I'm out of here," he said, voice going an octave lower._

_If heaven existed, Louis was sure he reached it as deep emerald eyes roamed hungrily over his half-naked body._

_He left his T-shirt and phone on a pile on the floor, turning his attention back to the boy on the bed, who was a complete mess. Spread on pearl-white bedsheets in front of him there was golden skin marked with words he couldn't dare speak; sweat and tears streamed down his petal-dusted cheeks in a quiet plea for more and in that moment, Louis thought he was beautiful._

_"You're so beautiful" an almost-whisper escaped Louis' lips in a broken voice and that was all it took for the younger boy to lose control._

_He laced his long fingers through Louis' and pulled him to bed, making a purple mark bloom on his neck. Hands roamed freely, worshipping every inch of toned skin. Clothes were long discarded on the carpeted floor and everything Louis could do was give, give, give._

_The other boy peppered fiery kisses and soft moans on Louis' body. His long curls were tugged at and the slight sting felt perfect. Louis felt him everywhere around him, kissing his plump lips as if they were dripping with Tennessee Honey. Heat pooled at his lower abs and everywhere else in his bones as pure bliss washed over them . Everything was euphoric and so hot, hot, hot._

Louis tried to open his eyes. His eyelids were still heavy with sleep and his mouth was unpleasantly dry. He rolled around in the satin bedsheets, every inch of his body aching in such a wonderful way. Body warmth caressed his back and long smooth legs were crossed with his own.

"You up?" a raspy voice echoed in the room.

Soft hands travelled across the older boy's skin. He could feel them trace small constellations between his freckles, tickling him.

"Mmm—"

"I'll take that as a no." the other boy said, before his warmth was gone. "Ugh, I need a shower; and a whole bottle of Advil; and food. In that order. We can go to Backyard Bowls if you want."

No answer.

Louis went back to sweet sleep for a few moments. He dreamt about foreign dark chocolate curls and vibrant green eyes until the scent of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon cookies filled the room. His stomach growled, hunger winning against exhaustion. After rubbing sleepily at his eyes, he pushed the soft duvet away, brisk breeze of early April rising goosebumps on his sweaty skin. The alarm clock on the nightstand showed 8:15 a.m. 'Great. I'm late again", Louis thought with a groan. He looked around, puzzled.

The room looked nothing like his. Instead, the black and yellow symbol of Alpha Zeta fraternity was scattered along white walls filled with polaroids and posters depicting high-fashion shows. It was an absolute mess, designer clothes scattered all around the floor and fairy lights hung loosely around the windowsills. Warm sunrays peeked through the half-closed blinds. Louis tried to find his clothes when he heard a low hum from the en suite.

'Who even sings Kesha songs in the shower anymore?' he thought to himself as his eyes roamed the bedroom floor.

He found a pair of clean Calvin Klein briefs and hoped they were his own. Right then, all he needed was a big glass of water, an even bigger bowl of Cocoa Puffs and maybe some Advil.

 _'Definitely some Advil'_ he thought as a terrible hangover started to pull apart as his head.

The boy walked downstairs, confused at the lack of noise. In the Panthers' house, there was always someone making stacks of pancakes and protein shakes for the entire football team. Instead, he was met with a dark-haired boy who looked a few seconds away from puking on the floor. Still, he was strikingly beautiful.

A tray of burnt cinnamon cookies sat on the countertop. There goes his impromptu breakfast.

"Are you okay, mate?" Louis asked as he filled a glass with water.

" No. And I'm never getting shitfaced again on a school night. Damned be beer pong and Jager." he replied in a deep British drawl "I'm Zayn, by the way. Zayn Malik."

"Louis. Louis Tomlinson."

"The supermodel?" the boy — Zayn — asked, raising his head from his hands. "Damn it, you're pretty even when you're hungover. Asshole."

The blue eyed boy laughed and muttered a quick 'thank you'. Zayn's straightforwardness was something he saw so rarely in people these days. He liked it.

After a few long moments of silence, the British boy spoke again.

"I suppose you know my mate, Harry, then. He's a model as well, got in the spotlight a few months ago, but he's killing it."

Fire coalesced with deep ocean blue. Harry Styles. He heard that name way too many times in the last months. Next to his own. Vogue saying he could be the new Louis Tomlinson.

'Never.' Louis scoffed to himself when he first read the headlines. Nobody could ever ruin his chances to walk the Paris Fashion Week.

"Heard you speaking about me?" the same raspy, yet golden syrup-sweet voice brought Louis back from his thoughts. He poured himself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice from the ceramic pitcher on the countertop.

The boy stood in front of him, rebellious mahogany curls cascading past his shoulders and bright eyes hidden inside a million emerald forests bringing out his sharp edges. Purple bruises blossomed on his milky white skin down to his lean torso. Gorgeous was a lousy way of describing his ethereal features, which were softened by the purity of his persuading young age.

Louis absolutely hated him.

"Do I know you?"

"Yes. We had sex." Louis' face fell.

"Oh God." the older boy went upstairs to get his clothes.

"What's wrong? I used protection, you won't get a STD. Not that... I have any." he followed Louis upstairs, "I mean, there was nothing wrong with it yesterday night judging by the sounds you made." Harry said with a grin plastered on his plump lips. "Good thing these walls are soundproof."

"Listen here you little shit—" Louis said as he buttoned up his skinny jeans "— I know what they say about you—" he yanked random shirt over his toned abs. It smelled like vanilla. The fabric muffled his voice as he added, "— And I know that you want to take my place. It's never gonna happen. Never. " the blue eyed boy put on his Alexander McQueen sneakers and slammed the bedroom door, leaving a very confused Harry behind him.

... 

"I can't believe it, man" Niall said between laughs, clutching his hurting stomach. "You hooked up with your arch nemesis."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Louis said, tapping his fingers on the hot Starbucks cup. The sugary caramel macchiato was his only lifeline this morning. Or so it felt like.

His thoughts were killing him earlier that morning when he took a shower, hoping the ice cold water would silence his mind and wash down that overwhelming vanilla scent from his skin. Pointess, apparently, as they were killing him now, too. He had fucked up so, so badly.

"Don't stress out so much. We're in college. We're supposed to be stupid and make mistakes—" Niall took a bite out of his sugar glazed donut "—Besides, he doesn't seem so bad, this Styles boy. I've seen him around, he's actually quite nice-looking."

"Thanks mate. Cheers." Louis replies, sarcasm laced with his Western accent. He took a sip of his coffee, hot liquid finally warming up his insides and relaxing his tense muscles.

"Are ya ready to go, guys?" Liam said in a cheerful tone, coming behind Niall and engulfing him in a bear hug. "Coach called us for practice earlier, we gotta go now."

He threw a bunch of royal blue jerseys on the table. The biggest game of the season was coming and they all could hear a ticking clock inside their heads, telling them they have too little time left.

"Go Panthers!" the whole team exclaimed as the exited the small coffee shop, earning a few annoyed glances.

... 

"I don't get it, Zayn. And it's plain insulting, as well." Harry said, spreading avocado on toast. "Am I that bad in bed?"

The black-haired boy snorted out his coffee.

"Not from what I heard."

"Then why does he act like this? I hate him." He set a tray of brownies on the counter, the delicious scent of warm chocolate making his nose tingle, easing his hangover a little.

"You're overthinking again, Haz." he said, planting a kiss on top of messy curls. "Hey, help me with these boxes here. It's a busy day today and we've gotta sort out all this stuff before our shift ends." Zayn said, motioning to some boxes filled with decor pieces.

Harry sighed. Being a model is hard. Being a model and a photography student is really hard. Being a model, a photography student, working shifts at a local coffee shop and having a fellow student hate every single detail about you was absolutely dreadful.

The doorbell rang, taking the boys' attention away from the pile of boxes. "I'll get it."

"Not you again." Louis said, unimpressed. He was still wearing a dark blue jersey and football shorts, light brown hair splayed messily across his sweaty forehead.

 _'Hot'_ Harry thought for a brief second.

"Hello to you, too. Welcome to Beachwood Cafe. How can I help you?"

"Yeah, hello. My mate here wants a coffee as black and as bitter as his soul on this beautiful Friday afternoon. And I want a lemonade, please." an artificially blond boy said, Irish accent prominent.

"Coming right up." Harry said, smiling sweetly at the two boys.

... 

"What the fuck is this? Pink coffee. With tons of sugar in it." Louis said, looking at the monstrosity in his Styrofoam cup. The boy was positively fuming.

"Strawberry Frappuccino. As dark and as bitter as your soul, baby." Harry said with a half-concealed smile. "And here's your lemonade..." he trailed off, waiting for the blond boy to speak.

"Niall. My name's Niall."

"I hate you, Styles! And don't call me baby ever again!" the older boy said, stepping out of the coffee shop.

"To be fair, he did always remind me of strawberries." Zayn said, laughing.

"Wait, you know him?"

"Yeah. Briefly. We have an art class together. He's in fashion, though, so we don't really get to speak with each other. And—" the British boy said, drawing out the first letter "— he has a hot teammate."

"I can't believe you. Really? From the Panthers' house, Zayn? They're the worst." Harry said, carrying boxes into the back. "Why didn't you try the lacrosse team? Or golf?"

"You can't blame me! They're football players. They're fit as hell. Plus, I've learned from the best." Zayn shook his head at Harry, picking up the last box. His phone buzzed. "It's Luke. I almost forgot, he's hosting a party tomorrow night. Join me?"

"I don't know... two parties in one week? I have to walk for Prada in a few days and I've been losing precious hours from my beauty sleep."

"Come on, loosen up a bit. It's gonna be fun. Besides, it's in Beverly Hills. They have the good stuff there." Zayn said, nudging Harry's shoulder. "I'll let you think about it."

"Fine. As long as there are canapés. You know I love canapés."

"Of course there are." the older boy said with a smile. "They're the Beverly Hills kids. They have everything you could ever imagine and then some. "

... 

Harry had always loved sunsets. There was something almost magical about the way warm colors danced together on a spotless blue canvas. Green eyes peered curiously outside a small window while chatter died down little by little around him.

The remaining hours until their shift was over were passing by awfully slow. Tina, the girl who always took the night shift was struck in traffic, and a couple who showed a little too much PDA was in the same spot as three hours ago, their hot chocolates long gone.

Sat on a chair in the back of the cafe, Harry scrolled mindlessly through his Facebook page. So what if people thought it wasn't trendy anymore? There were a lot of cat videos on there and he wouldn't trade them for the world. They reminded him of Dusty, his Bengal cat back home, in Sacramento.

He leaned back in his chair, back bones popping in a pleasant way. All he wanted was to go for a run, maybe do a facemask and binge-watch Teen Wolf while drinking some green tea. A bowl of hot oatmeal sounded good, too.

The door opened with a soft click. "What's up, Haz?" Tina said with an apologetic smile. "Sorry for the delay. You know how traffic is in LA."

"It's fine, don't worry. I've got it all set for you, the boxes are unpacked and the coffee maker is cleaned. Now excuse me, I'm gonna go run for a while. Gotta keep this body in shape." he said in a playful tone, picking up his keys from the counter.

"I don't understand you. So much energy."

"Hey, I'm still 18. And I'm having some shows next week. Paris is coming soon and I can't miss it!" Harry said over his shoulder, opening the door. "Also, we've run out of oat cookies."

"Harry! Not again!" Tina shouted, muffling a small laugh

... 

The cold breeze blew through his locks, tied up in a messy man bun. His hair was getting really long, but he couldn't be bothered. The boy's muscles hurt in a satisfying way, droplets of sweat dampening his gray Nike hoodie. "FourFiveSeconds" was blasting in his airpods and the park seemed so serene at night, the quick tapping of his sneakers almost echoing in the silence.

He hummed along to the song, lyrics all too familiar.

_"See they want to buy my pride, but just ain't up for sale"_

Ironically enough, flashbacks of the previous night flooded his memory. Everything was so hot, so raw, yet so, so wrong. He knew that, despite having every piece of himself scream otherwise.

Harry's sexuality became controversial when he stepped into the spotlight. Everyone wanted him to be single and straight and _desirable_. Fashion magazines fought with each other to get a word out of him, until they did. And it was a shock for all of them.

Fairly enough, he didn't really understand "labeling", but he read somewhere that pansexual exists. At first, the word felt weird on the tip of his tongue; he was just Harry. He liked people for _who_ they were, not for _what_ they were.

Being open wasn't a problem for him. Feeling things was. Louis had made him feel things. Soft, warm things he'd never felt before.

Harry took a deep breath in, eyes focusing on the moon above him. He hated Louis. He had to. There was only one place for them at the Paris Fashion Week and he could already imagine his name, embroidered in silver letters on a silken Prada suit.

Small footsteps approached him. The air was damp and cold with a faint scent of flowers and something sweet. The music in his airpods was long gone, he noticed. His phone must had died.

"Isn't it a bit too cold to be outside now?"

"No. It feels nice. Besides, why would you care?" Harry's gaze shifted towards Louis.

"I don't."

The older boy brought the cigarette to his thin pink lips, igniting it to life. "I didn't know you smoked."

"You don't know shit about me, Styles." Louis said, voice, strangely, still soft. "You know my name and what brands I've walked for but you don't know the real stuff."

Green eyes landed upon a YSL black Mystique T-shirt. His T-shirt, on Louis. The younger boy didn't mind.

"You wouldn't tell me." Harry replied, kicking a stray pebble.

"I don't think you understand. We're rivals. Or at least, we're supposed to be—" he stepped on the cigarette butt, picking it up and putting it into a trash can "— Paris Fashion Week is coming. There's only one place for us." he raised himself on his tippy toes, placing a warm hand in the middle of Harry's chest, lips brushing the younger boy's ear shell "And I'm gonna get it no matter what."

And with that, he was gone. And the only reminder Harry had of the blue-eyed boy ever being there was a vague strawberry scent.

...

Harry made his way through sweaty bodies and loud chatter. It was all so luxurious, girls covered in diamonds and glittery dresses dancing with boys wearing outfits worth thousands upon thousands of dollars. They all seemed taken straight off the runway and he was grateful he chose to wear a silken embroidered YSL jacket. The music was too loud and he could feel it booming deep inside his ears, but at least the overbearing thoughts were gone, being replaced by raspberry vodka and expensive champagne.

"Hey mate, come here!" Zayn motioned to an empty spot beside him and handed over a small Ziploc bag filled with colored pills.

A joint was being passed in the circle of teenagers, thick smoke filling the room. On a glass coffee table, white lines were cut with a black Amex card.

Harry felt his head swimming and voices were muffled around him as he put a small white pill on the tip of his tongue. Bitterness filled his mouth instantly. He closed his eyes, resting his head on Zayn's shoulder.

A loud laughter ripped through his friends' chest. "I told you it would be good. Beverly Hills kids and their designer drugs never fail, H."

 _"This is so wrong."_ his vision went blurry for a second, music becoming louder and louder with each passing second.

He stood up, searching for the balcony. Dopamine ran through his veins, spreading like wildfire all over his body. Some fresh air would definitely do him good.

A small hand was placed on his lower back, guiding him gently to a big glass door.

"What did you take? Why would you do that?" someone shook him by his shoulders. "Harry, answer me!"

He looked around, eyes meeting a vibrant blue. Strawberry scent filled his nostrils. The boy looked so petite, despite only being a few inches shorter than him. Soft, brown hair fell over his forehead and his pink lips were pursed in a thin line. "Harry, please, answer me." fingers laced through his; "For crying out loud, just say something. Anything."

"You're beautiful." and God, he really was. Harry furrowed his pencil thin brows. "You shouldn't be here."

Silence fell heavy between them. It was almost deafening, in a way. He lifted his gaze, looking at the glimmering stars; one fell.

"Liam, he's burning. What should I do?" the boy said over the phone, concern written over his seraphic features. "Yeah, I got it. Yeah, figured. Okay, thanks. Bye, take care."

After he let the older boy guide him to an empty bedroom, Harry plopped on the fluffy bed, white light hurting his eyes. Cold bedsheets rubbed on his sweltering skin.

"Drink this." a glass of cold water was handed to him. He shook his head in gratitude, feeling his insides cool down.

"Why do you care about me? Why are you helping me if you hate me so much?"

"I don't care about you. And for the record, I still hate you." Louis sighed, refilling his glass "It's just... I hate you, but I also hate seeing you like this. Do you know how dangerous Ecstasy is, Harry? Do you? What were you thinking?"

"I just wanted a break, Louis!" he sat criss-cross applesauce and ran a hand through messy ringlets. "I wanted to have something else to think about besides the party at ours. You've been on my mind ever since and I can't seem to get you out. I just wanted to forget you, because you hate me. And I hate you right back. And what happened between us was a mistake." tears stained his pale skin.

Louis watched him with a burning turquoise stare, face emotionless.

"Go to sleep, Harry."

A door was closed gently behind the older boy. Harry fell face-first on a white pillow, tidal waves of sadness washing over him.

... 

Louis ran across the football field at full speed, blocking out all the noise around him. His muscles were screaming with pain, quick, shallow breaths stinging in his chest; droplets of sweat clouded his vision and stained his jersey, but the only thing that mattered was the ball in his hands. Six points and they'd win. All he had to do was focus.

20 seconds of overtime left. He took a deep breath in.

10 seconds. The crowd screamed exuberantly and trumpets filled the air.

5 seconds. He dodged a member of the opposed team. He could do this.

4 seconds. A stopwatch started ticking in his head

He shifted his weight and rolled into a perfect somersault, both feet landing steady on the ground.

3, 2, 1.

Touchdown. Game over.

"Once again, Tomlinson scores the final goal, marking the sixth victory of the Panthers' this season. Will they be drafted to play in the next year NFL? Looks like they've got big chances." the commentator's voice boomed through the speakers.

The whole team burst into a roar as the match came to an end. Amongst a mess of sweaty college boys and royal blue jerseys, Louis felt worry subside. People were chanting his name. He did it.

After the excitement died down and a few interviews here and there, Louis headed back to the locker room. His eyes quickly scanned over the iPhone screen. After ten days, an answer finally came.

**_1 New Message_ **

**From** : Zayn   
"He's alright now, don't worry. Great game tonight, congrats man."

He typed in a quick thank you before putting the phone back into his backpack.

Why did hating Harry have to feel so wrong, after all?

...

Harry's phone buzzed, distracting him from watching Derek Hale fight with Deucalion. He paused the show, quickly typing in a phone number. After three dials, a familiar voice answered.

"Hey there Haz. How are you? We haven't talked in a while and your face is literally everywhere around Sacramento."

"Hi Nick. I'm as good as I can be, thanks. You?"

"I'm good, I'm good. Look, I'll be in LA Monday for some business meetings. Wanna hang out?"

Harry checked the calendar on the wall.

"Isn't Monday in, like, three days from now?"

"It is. It's kinda short notice, but I really have to talk to you. Please?"

The green eyed boy sighed. Nick had always been a persuasive person. "Fine. But I have classes on Monday morning and then I'm working an afternoon shift at the cafe. Meet me there, I'll send you the address."

...

Louis walked into Beachwood Cafe, the sweet scent of freshly baked brownies and roasted coffee making his stomach growl. Mondays always meant coffee runs in the morning and long hours spent at practice and today was no different.

Blue eyes scanned the room; he furrowed his brows. Something was missing. _Someone_ was missing.

"Good morning, what can I get started for ya?"

"Hi, Zayn. A big caramel macchiato -almond milk, no sugar- and some of those heavenly smelling brownies, please."

"Coming right up."

Muffled chatter and the buzzing of the coffee maker filled the small cafe. Even though he didn't want to admit it, Louis liked it there. It felt home-ly, in some sort of way, with all the hung polaroids and little knickknacks.

"Uh... mate? We've ran out of brownies." Zayn said, looking puzzled in front of the empty tray. "That fucker—" he motioned towards a far away table, "—took them all. The guy's a nuisance. He always does this when he visits. All they did was stay there the whole morning and do nothing, they won't even acknowledge who's around them"

Louis peeked curiously at the table. A mop of curly hair blocked his view, but he could figure there was another man. Zayn stepped out from behind the counter, holding a plastic cup.

"Who's Nick Grimshaw?" the older boy asked as he looked at the messily sprawled letters.

"It's him." Zayn motioned at the man besides Harry.

"I'll take it, thank you."

Louis set the cup on the counter. A quick Google search was all he needed before an idea crossed his mind.

"Here you go. It's gonna be 5 dollars." he placed the cup down.

"I don't have to pay for these. Hazza's got it covered for me, right? Since you're a model and all now."

Hazza. Louis' blood boiled at the nickname.

"The coffee's exceptionally good today, though. Better than before, I might say."

"Brewed it myself." Louis said with a smug expression. "The secret is peanut milk — not very popular amongst our regular customers— but a life-changer."

Nick's eyes widened upon hearing Louis' words. "I thought you told your stupid little friends not to put peanuts, Harry."

"I did!"

"What's the matter?"

"He's severely allergic to peanuts, you dumbass!" Harry looked absolutely hysterical. "We've gotta call an ambulance."

"I have an Epipen in my car." Nick said as he started to turn red. Both boys went outside, Louis earning an angry stare from Harry.

"I'll talk to you later about this, Tomlinson." the younger boy said, closing the door behind him.

"I don't wanna know when — or how — you found out that's he's allergic. Because I know for a fact it was intentional."

"What one doesn't know won't hurt one."

"You sick fuck. I'll give you a free coffee for this. Actually, you know what? Take as many brownies as you want. Free of charge." The British boy laughed uncontrollably. "Thank you man, you're awesome."

The older boy took his coffee and a few brownies, winking at a still laughing Zayn.

He definitely did that because Nick was an editor at Vogue.

Yeah, _definitely_. The spontaneous, anger-fueled make-out session he had with Harry five minutes before practice was just a bonus.

...

The last days of April flew by in a whirlwind of catwalk shows, editorials, early morning football practice and late evenings spent at Beachwood.

As he was standing in a lavender-scented studio, Harry's thoughts ran back to the events of previous few weeks. His life changed, no doubts, into something of such prodigy, he thought he had been dreaming. From being scouted as one of the youngest models ever to be considered to walk the Paris Fashion Week to being accepted into the university of his dreams, to finding a group of friends that felt like home, the boy felt as if it was a bit too good to be true.

Except the accident with Nick. Why would Louis ever do something like that? And why would he kiss him back?

Still, things were uneasy between him and the blue eyed boy.

"Move your head a bit to the right, please. We're almost done."

Harry did as he was told, gold leaves around his deep emerald eyes sparkling in the honey-tinted light. The constant clicking of a camera broke the perfect silence every now and then.

A big Vogue feature was coming and rehearsals became a part of his evenings lately. Every time, a gold leaf was misplaced or a curl didn't stay still. Things weren't quite perfect yet.

He spread his long limbs on the wine colored sofa. The snow white piece of fabric he was wearing contrasted with his tan skin and right then and there, he looked like he belonged in a storybook, between Greek gods and towering pillars of the Parthenon.

"And we're done." The photographer packed his equipment and waved goodbye.

Harry replied with a quick 'thank you' and let himself fall back on the leather cushions. To say he was tired was an understatement.

"Hey, H. Look what came in the mail today. I felt like you should know." Zayn said, placing a cup of hot coffee next to him.

Harry picked up the glossy Vogue magazine, eyes scanning over the headline:

_"Louis Tomlinson, 20, will be one of the two gorgeous faces featured in our next Ancient Greece-inspired edition. Coming to you in May."_

The magazine fell on the floor with a light thud.

It was bad.

Really, really bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vogue photoshoot means more than just an appearance on the cover of a famous magazine. Could it be the start of something beautiful between enemies?

May 2nd, 2020

4 months before Paris Fashion Week

"I can't do it, Zayn."

"For the one hundredth time, yes you can. I won't let you give up on such a great opportunity."

"You won't give up, will you?"

"Nope. I know how much you wanted to be a part of this and how much you'll regret if you won't."'

"Fine."

Harry raised his arms in surrender. In the beam of soft, late-spring sun, golden leaves that kissed his sharp cheekbones tenderly shined like diamonds. A cascade of dark brown, silk curls fell over his caramel shoulders, bringing out the jade hue of his eyes.

His makeup was perfectly done; every curl was in its designated place; the Vogue photoshoot was only minutes away.

In his bloodstream nervousness flowed free,heart skipping two beats at once. If the boy listened close enough, he was almost sure he could hear hasty pulse ringing in his ears.

Then, he walked in. There was only one word to describe the staggering boy. Where his eyes were a whole new shade of blue, as if the clearest summer sky drained in all the deepest oceans of the world, hiding themselves behind flecks of molten silver and dark arched eyebrows. His face was strong and defined yet so soft and warm, features carved in marble. Lips that were lustfully plump revealed a pearly white smile. A gold-plated laurel crown sat on top of his now fluffy fringe. Only one word swam trough Harry's clouded mind. Adonis.

"Harry, are you okay? You zoned out for a bit there." Zayn whispered to him.

Their eyes met. To everyone else in the room, the models looked like Greek gods who reigned over Mediterranean shores and white temples. To themselves they were anything but that, flaming hearts screaming at each other, words remaining trapped; they embodied Ares and Helios, war and light, death and life.

"Are you ready, then?"

The photographer — Jonathan, as he introduced himself while setting up the equipment— motioned to the middle of the small room, where a black backdrop was placed.

"Boys, I'll need you to grip each other's chlamys. Bring your faces closer together — that's perfect!"

A quick click. A blinding light. In that moment, Harry felt as if he could kiss the older boy. Instead, he broke eye contact, waiting for the photographer to change their poses.

"You know the Cupid and Psyche painting from 1798, don't you?" the boys looked puzzled. "The François Pascal Simon Gérard one? Wait, I'll show you."

He pulled out a photo from his bag, handing it to Louis.

"We'd never do that."

"We have to. The managers sent me all the inspiration and they won't be happy if we miss any. Also, I'll need you for individual shots."

Louis sighed. It would be a long day.

. . .

"I can't believe you drink that. Do you know how much sugar that thing has?" Louis said incredulously.

"Hey, it's good. We deserve it. It's been a long day."

The younger boy took a sip of his caramel hot chocolate. It felt good inside his body, like warm hands that roamed on his tummy.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, the boy felt nothing but content. Sitting there, with Louis, who was supposed to be his enemy in the never-ending race for a place on the runway, engulfed by the heat of warm, sugary drinks and the smell of vanilla muffins felt right in such a wronged way. Specks of his soul screamed in agony, warning him that once again he's playing with fire, that he's tiptoeing on the edge of something he'd never be able to fully understand until he completely drowns in itself, until every bit of him is burnt to nothing but ashes.

 _Love._ What a strange feeling it was.

_Was it love?_

Beachwood Cafe was unusually quiet, the rumbling of fresh green leaves tinkling along with the distant melody of a nightingale. Zayn was long off, most likely painting the once white walls of their shared house. A clock was ticking slowly.

"It's getting late. I should go." Louis said, picking up his bag. He was dressed in a blue tracksuit with the Panthers' logo, looking so soft and warm in contrast to his appearance from a mere few hours before. Golden flecks lost themselves in between strands of his light fringe.

"Yeah, I suppose I should close this place for the day as well. I'll show you out."

The older boy moved falteringly in front of him. In the space between them there rested so many unspoken conversations and scary emotions. They knew it. They could feel it deep in their hearts.

Cerulean blue eyes peered up at Harry. There was something peculiar hidden behind the untamed blue fires inside, something the boy couldn't quite put his finger on.

If hate looked like this, Harry didn't want to feel anything else anymore. He felt delicate fingers touching his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut.

And then, all of a sudden, they were gone, as if struck by lightning.

"Goodnight, Styles."

Words seemed to be something unattainable for him in that moment, only one ringing inside his head.

_Love._

...

"Hello?" Harry said, his voice echoing in the empty house. "Zayn, are you home?"

Empty cans of spray paint were dropped on the covered floor. For a moment, Harry wondered if he was home alone. It was weird, as Zayn never left without notice.

 _'Maybe he went outside to do some last minute grocery shopping.'_ The boy thought to himself, leaving his shoes and duffel bag in a corner.

A bubble bath sounded heavenly at that moment. White musk scented, as always. He knew Zayn would be mad at him for borrowing his bath bombs again; nevertheless, he still tiptoed to his flatmate's room.

"Oh my God, I don't even want to know what happened here." the younger boy said, covering his eyes. "You could've at least told me you're having guests over, Zayn."

Beautiful bodies tried to hide themselves behind black bedsheets. Delicate feminine features and sharp, masculine ones blended in a sea of pale skin and art, as they always did with Zayn. Everything about the boy was mystery and art, including his relationships.

"I'm just gonna take a bath bomb. Don't mind me." he rummaged through a drawer.

Zayn's cheeks burned red. His guests looked bewildered at the oblivious model in front of them.

Harry closed the door behind him carefully. Jesus. And he thought his personal life was complicated.

He went to the onyx-tiled en-suite, humming a Rihanna song. The sound of running water and the scent of white musk disconnected him from the world, capturing his entire being in a bubble of tranquility.

Long after the water went cold and early morning sun started peeking through the small bathroom window, Harry's phone buzzed in the distance. Making his way inside the bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, the model wondered who could call him at the wee hours of the morning.

"Hey, Harry. It's Bella, your manager, but I guess you knew that already" she chuckled shortly, "Sorry for calling so early, it's been a white night here, at the headquarters of IMG. We just wanted to congratulate you for the Vogue shot. Anna Wintour herself called us to praise you and Louis, can you believe this?"

Anna Wintour? Oh God.

"...anyways, she wants you both to do another shot in the Bahamas."

"That's really cool, Bella. The sea is amazing there!"

"I know, but there's a catch. She said you two have an electric connection, however, you still have to work on your poses; make them more natural or something like that. She wants to send you on a two-week vacation before the shoot. Turks and Caicos, all paid by Vogue."

"Please tell me you didn't say yes."

"I said yes, indeed. Be ready to pack your bags, you're leaving in a week. Good night, Harry! Or good morning, whatever it is for you."

The line went static. Ten seconds later, a text message came:

**From:** Louis

“We're booking separate rooms and I'll murder you if you bring any avocados in my sight.“

Harry almost smiled. His heart was running at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, but Turks and Caicos sounded better than ever. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of crystal waters and white sand beaches.

. . .

"Should I pack three or four pairs of swimming trunks, Li?"

"Four, just to be sure."

"Okay but do I take the white ones with rainbows or the plain black ones? Or maybe the ones with the dinosaurs? Are they too childish?"

"For God's sake, Louis. I haven't heard you speak so fast since last year's final match. Calm down, mate."

Louis plopped on the bed, throwing the swimming trunks on the floor.

"I have two days left and I haven't packed anything yet. I can't just calm down."

"It's going to be fine, you'll see. Just pack what you're the most comfortable in and don't forget sunscreen and you're all set."

"What if he laughs at my dinosaur swimming trunks, though? Not that I care. I hate him.”

"I don't think he will. We all love them equally."

The boys let out loud laughs. Stress heavied Louis' chest and he felt nervous. Anna Wintour praised him, then sent him on a two week vacation with his arch nemesis. Fair enough.

Looking at the pile of colorful designer clothes in front of him, the boy couldn't help but wonder what Turks and Caicos would be like.

. . .

May 12, 2020

11:30 p.m

"Take care, boys! And don't forget to call us once you're there. Oh and send us pictures."

Zayn and Liam sat next to each other, waving goodbye at their friends.

"Honestly I don't know how they'll manage to sit ten hours next to each other. And then two weeks."

Zayn shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it's for the best." He looked at the boy in front of him, hands deep into the pockets of his skinny jeans. "I don't think they hate each other as much as they want to believe."

"Oh, can't you see? It's not hate, this mess in between them."

. . .

"Please don't tell me we're seated next to each other, please don't tell me we're seated next to each other..."

"You've been chanting the same thing for the past ten minutes, Louis."

"Yeah, and I'm gonna repeat it ten more for good luck."

"Well, baby, it's not your lucky day today. Where do you wanna sit, aisle or window?"

Harry held up two plane tickets. At least they flew first class.

"Aisle. And don’t ever call me baby again."

The voice of a woman echoed through the fairly empty airport, telling them they had to board on the plane. Both boys followed the path towards their plane, finding their seats shortly after.

Harry spread his legs in front of him, sighing contently. He made a mental note to thank Anna Wintour for buying them extra leg room.

As the plane took off abruptly, he could hear a faltering breath next to him.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." Louis tried to steady his trembling hands.

"Are you afraid of heights?"

"It's not the height—" the boy took in a sharp breath as they ran into a turbulence, the whole plane swaying from side to side. "— we're in a metal box, 38,000 feet above the land and we could collapse any minute."

"You know they are trained to help us in case the plane crashes, right?"

"You're not helping, Harry!" the older boy said a bit too loudly, earning a few annoyed glances from the other passengers.

Harry laced his long fingers through Louis' delicate ones.

"Here. Take my hand and squeeze it whenever you're feeling anxious. It should help."

"Fine. But only because if I'm dying, I'm bringing you with me. You got us into this."

A laugh threatened to escape past Harry's lips.

"Ow— maybe don't squeeze so hard, though."

. . .

"I'm absolutely, never in a million years, joining the mile-high club, Harry."

"All I'm saying is, we've done it once and we've gotta check off some points off of that bucket list. You know, people would give only so much to get this body and you're refusing me."

Louis leaned closer to the other boy, half-whispering, "Fucking you in an airplane isn't on my bucket list."

"As if I'd be a bottom."

"You've done it once, baby." Harry huffed.

Both boys laughed. Sitting there, in the small space for so many hours, with dark blue circles painted under his light eyes, Louis thought that Harry wasn't as bad as he first believed. A four-hour game of scrabble, many protein bars that tasted like green tea and light-hearted laughter later, he discovered that the younger boy was the definition of warm summer days, dad jokes and everlasting youth.

He was actually nice. Louis had to hate him, even though it seemed harder and harder with each day that passed.

...

When Louis thought about Turks and Caicos, his mind wandered to turquoise ocean and ivory sand and never so much heat and humidity.

It was beautiful, nevertheless. Palm trees stood tall above them, housing between their long leaves small, gracious birds that stole the rainbow’s colors, wearing them like designer suits. A fluffy finger monkey climbed on Louis’ hand, squeaking happily at him. He put it gently on the ground.

"My hair's ruined." Harry said, running a hand through his now frizzy locks. "I'm going to look like a palm tree all the time!"

"How fitting." Louis replied, entering the reception.

A short woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties greeted them with a warm smile. She was dressed up to the nines in a black suit which seemed so odd compared to the sceneries. On her name tag a messy 'Layla' was written in black ink.

"Good morning, boys. Hope you had a great flight. You're the models sent by miss Wintour, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's us." Harry said, matching her smile.

"Figured. Well, mister Styles and mister Tomlinson, here is your room key. The reservation says you have a deluxe suite with beachfront view. My colleague will bring your luggage inside.”

"Wait, sorry. Does that mean it only has one bedroom?"

"That is correct. King-sized. It's one of our best rooms. I’m sure you'll enjoy it. Here's your WiFi password and if you need anything, you can always call the reception on the telephone in your room."

"Could we change the room? Maybe get two single-bed ones?" Louis asked, yet something in his voice seemed hesitant.

"I'm afraid not, mister Tomlinson. The reservations are non-refundable and non-interchangeable."

Green eyes met blue. Both of them sighed at the same time.

...

"You're taking the sofa."

"I am not! You're shorter, I need more space to sleep." Harry said, raising his hands in defense.

Louis stomped his leg on the hardwood floor. His face lit up as an idea appeared into his mind. "Let's race, then. The first one to reach the beach gets the bed." he said, already opening the door.

"It's not fair! You're an athlete!" Harry shouted, following him.

Soft sand burned their feet. The breeze smelled like sunscreen, fresh fruit and salt water and despite being the last to reach the beach, Harry felt happiness creeping its way into his whole body. The older boy danced a little victory dance in front of him like a child.

"Ha! I won. That means you, mister Styles, are sleeping on the sofa."

Louis dipped his toes into the water. It was pleasantly cold.

"Wait, no!—" he shouted as the younger boy picked him up with ease "— I'm really gonna murder you if you mess up my hair."

_Splash._

"Oops?" Harry said, laughing at Louis, who quickly got up on his feet.

"Hi, bitch."

Harry fell into the water, droplets of beine raising after him. When he got back up, his curls were splayed on his face, almost completely straight from the water; sunshine kissed his features and gave him an angelic look, as if he belonged up in the sky, between fluffy cloud and golden harps rather than here, amongst dull people and sordid tragedies.

Something warm tugged at the seams of Louis' heart, burning it from the inside and drowning him in waters that weren't even close to the turquoise that unveiled in front of him.

"I hate you, Harry Styles." he said, even though he couldn't believe it one bit. His eyes burned with salt and despise.

Harry's smile faltered, but then became larger.

The boy could read right through his lies.

.. .

Night came down upon the tropical island with a veil of gleaming stars and a silver-plated full moon. In just their swimming trunks and designer t-shirts, the boys facetimed two strangely cheerful and flustered Zayn and Liam.

"When did you guys start hanging out?" Louis asked his teammate.

"Just after you left. Zayn invited me over and showed me his artwork. You're really living with an artist, Harry. He's gonna be big in a few years."

"'M not..."

"Yes he is. I always try to tell him that, Liam, believe me. He just doesn't want to admit how insanely good he is."

After a short pause, Zayn spoke again.

"So how is Turks and Caicos? As pretty as the photos show?"

"Even prettier, really. I'll send you some photos later, my phone's dead. The food is amazing, too."

"Says the one who eats avocado on toast." Louis said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey! It's actually good."

"Yeah, whatever. This place is an absolute dream. Too bad you couldn't come with us this time. You're going to the party in the hills, aren't ya?"

"I think so. Luke said something about leaving the team. Apparently their band, 5 Seconds Of Summer, really took off and they'll go on tour when the season is over."

"That's great for them. The team is going to be a lot fuller without their jokes and banter, though. I’ll miss Michael’s colorful hair. Look, we've gotta go now. Harry's phone is dying, but we'll call you again. Take care, bye."

The phone call ended with quick goodbyes. Pace and quiet dominated over the calm sea that smelled like salt, faint vanilla and strawberries; as they looked up at the shining stars, the boys could faintly hear clicking of crystal glasses in the distance.

"It's actually quite nice," Louis spoke first, drawing small eight figures in the sand between them. "Being here, I mean. Nobody knows who we are. Nobody wants to take pictures with us and they don't care wether we live in a small apartment on the outskirts of LA or in Beverly Hills. They only care about the sun, this gorgeous sea and just... living, I suppose."

Harry looked at him, eyes roaming over his face, searching for something unknown.

"Don't you want people to recognize you, though? Isn't it why you chose this life? Why you chose being on runways all over the world and on more magazines one can count?"

"I shouldn't explain myself to you, but if you're really curious—" Louis took a deep breath, memories flooding his mind "— I got into modeling after failing my career in football."

"I don't understand — you're playing for the team."

"I do. But I'll never be able to play for the NFL like Niall and Liam do. See this right here?" he motioned to a scarred patch of skin on his knee "This is all I had left after I had lost everything. We were on a skiing trip in the Alps. France, actually. Senior year of high school. I was really good at skiing back then and there was this really dangerous route, one that only the best of the best could conquer. They told me not to go on that path, as it had snowed heavily the day before, but I didn't listen. And do you know what happened?” He looked far in the horizon, eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I got hit at full speed by a snowmobile."

The younger boy took in a sharp breath.

"The doctors told my parents I wouldn't survive the impact, but apparently life had other plans for me. I was lucky, though, only had a broken leg. It was more than enough to make me lose what was the biggest part of me then."

"I'm so sorry, Lou."

"Don't be. I don't need your pity." Louis replied sharply, getting up quickly and entering the hotel.

Right then and there, between the palm trees and everlasting summer, Harry felt as if he had lost the tiniest sliver of closeness he had with Louis.

As he followed the younger boy, he knew exactly what to say.

"Look, Lou, I know we're not friends, okay? I know it damn well. But I won't let you go back to hating me because we have to spend two weeks together." Harry closed the apartment door behind him. "Pity is far from what I have for you. Quite frankly, I think you're an amazing model and a great football player. Fuck the NFL, it doesn't show your worth."

The older boy's gaze followed Harry, who sat on the king sized bed beside him.

"I want to get to know you. The real you, not the unbreakable façade you put on. I want to know what sets your soul on fire and what gets you out of bed every morning."

"I'm not made of such poetry you're speaking, Harry. Perfection is far away from what I am."

"I don't want you to be perfect. I want you to be real just for once.”

. . .

Azure skies painted themselves amongst hours upon hours of mindless conversation. Tired eyes looked deep into each other, unraveling deep-hidden secrets of the past and present. The smiles plastered across the boys' faces never seemed to falter; they were happy and so, so tired.

"You didn't strike as the reading kind to me, to be honest."

"Oscar Wilde's creations have always been a hidden pleasure to me, dear Harry. Highschool might have taken the football career away from me, but it offered me a world of poetry and art."

The younger boy's head rested on Louis' shoulder. He could feel his words vibrating through his body, spreading down to his fingertips like magic; there was something in the way he spoke, as if words were nothing but puzzle pieces he combined perfectly.

He didn't know how long they stood there, just talking, but the heaviness of his eyelids hid behind them countless minutes. Hundreds of questions remained unanswered as the boys fell asleep, bodies tangled together on the ivory bedding.

. . .

"Has anyone ever told you that you are really fucking hot?" Louis said, throwing the bedsheets away from his body, awaken by the heat of summer and Harry.

"Every time I enter the room, why?"

"I was talking about your skin, you dumbass. You're like a human heater."

Harry watched Louis as he got up, fixing his hair in the full-sized mirror. "You kinda look like a hedgehog."

The older boy sent him a threatening glare. Without saying a word, he entered the en-suite bathroom. Sunlight beamed on Harry's skin, enveloping him in warmth and purity. His curls cascaded on the soft pillows and as he rolled around in the cool bedsheets, a low growl came from his tummy.

"Get out of the bathroom, I'm hungry!" he shouted, drawing out the last word.

"Beauty takes patience and time, Harry." the older boy answered. The water stopped, signaling that he got out of the shower, strawberry scent floating in the warm air of the room.

Harry followed him inside the bathroom, barely being able to ignore the fact that he was only wearing a fluffy towel around his waist, showing off a lustful V-line.

Quick stolen glances played in an unspoken game between them as they both brushed their teeth, looking in the horizontal mirror. The younger boy started humming mindlessly. Chocolate by The 1975, Louis recognized. He pushed the older boy out of the bathroom, laughing at his protests.

Ice cold water fell on the green eyed boy’s skin, waking him up entirely, energy buzzing through his whole body. The perfume of warm vanilla scented his hair right before a warm towel kissed them gently a few minutes later.

"Are you ready?" Louis entered the bathroom, startling the younger boy. "I-I'll go out" he said, eyes locked on the toned body in front on him.

Harry's cheeks tinted a bright red as he got dressed in a pair of shorts and a plain white t-shirt.

"Let's go, then."

The hotel restaurant was beautiful, to say the least. It had a very tropical feel to it, with colorful flower garlands hanging from the wooden ceiling and cyan waters laid boundless in front of white tables, brilliant fish swimming underneath the glass floor.

Louis and Harry picked up their food, sitting at the closest table to the sea.

"Oh no, not avocados. Absolutely not." Louis said, scrunching his nose at the younger boy's plate.

"They're good." Harry said, taking a mouthful of avocado toast. "And nutritious."

"Trendiest food of all time." he stirred peanut butter into his chocolate banana oats. “They do piss me off, really. You can see them everywhere in photos, in LA. What's wrong with just a cup of tea?"

Harry laughed, almost chocking with his fresh passion fruit juice.

As he stood there, 5400 miles away from home, looking at the bluest pair of eyes and the brightest smile he'd ever seen in his life, he realized that Turks and Caicos wasn't only a tropical paradise to him; it was a secret getaway, a place where his secrets would be buried deep between muted sand and salty waves, sweet breeze and warm laughter, where no one knew their name and the hectic lives they led, where his wild heartbeats would lose themselves amongst tanned skin, safety and timeless summer.

He knew, in that moment, he was utterly gone, drowned deep inside a peculiar emotion he'd never felt before, flowers blooming with such splendor inside his chest, tickling his ribs and heaving his breaths and he never wanted to go back.

But the pearly smile faded quickly, being replaced by an ice-cold stare and a stern look, the flowers in his chest becoming dark and overwhelmingly heavy and the water looked just a little more stormy. A voice in his head hurt him, telling him the only truth he would never want to hear again.

_'He could never like you back.'_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Harry and Louis in Turks and Caicos. Will endless summer and the hidden paradise bring with them hidden feelings, as well? Or will they remain a secret between palm trees and cold waters?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I come back after months of not posting? Yeah, I did.  
> I'm really sorry guys. But life happened and we started school where I live. I'll try to post more regularly from now on. I'll review this soon, but if there are any mistakes please do point them out! Hope you enjoy this chapter:)

May 20, 2020  
4 months before Paris Fashion Week

Molten gold shimmered into the luxurious hotel room, warming up the immaculate bedsheets. Three short beeps announced the start of a new day of photoshoots, as the last few have been.

The room fell into complete silence once again when a long, tanned arm shut down the alarm. Louis sighed sleepily, looking at the mess of feathery chestnut curls beside him. Vanilla and musk filled his senses and he laid a moment longer in the bed, enjoying the peacefulness of a Wednesday morning. For a short second, he wondered what Harry's morning kisses felt like; how pliant and soft the boy would be in the first moments, his dark green eyes clouded with sleep looking up at him from— okay, he needed to stop.

With a quick shake of his head, Louis shuffled towards the en suite bathroom, his burning skin aching for an ice cold shower.

Mornings with Harry became harder and harder with each passing day and the older boy could feel his high walls falling apart piece by piece, torn by someone for whom he had all the wrong feelings for. His façade was torn apart, cold stares and witty remarks morphing into stolen glances, long days spent at the beach and mindless conversations. Harry made him feel things. Things he'd never felt before, that made tiny specks of electricity burn at his fingertips each time they brushed past each other.

Love and fear. Such a lethal combination.

"Look, I know I'm interrupting your self care routine, but we have half an hour left until we need to go get our makeup done."

Without knocking, the boy entered the bathroom. "Go on, I won't look, I promise." he said with a mouthful of toothpaste, handing Louis a fluffy white towel.

"Can't believe we have only a few days left. It feels like a dream come true. And we have so little time left to dream!"

"You're such a drama queen, did you know that?" Harry laughed, pumping the remnants of what was once a Chanel face cleanser onto his palms. "With the money we're making these days, we could buy a vacation house on this island."

"Owning a vacation house with you. Tragic." Louis replied, trying not to laugh but failing. "Come on, princess, let's go eat something."

. . .

A bittersweet feeling filled Louis' heart. An overbearing thought had creeped its way into his mind a few days prior and he just couldn't seem to get rid of it; his fingertips were burning with want and, for a moment, he almost thought out loud the only thing he wasn't allowed to wish for. And, as it stood right in front of him, eating cherry-flavoured oatmeal, Louis knew he was fucked. Really, really fucked.

Still, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, shaking his head lightly. He had to stop thinking, just for a short while.

"Sometimes I forget you're still a teenager. You're on your third bowl of oatmeal and I doubt you'll finish anytime soon."

"Fast metabolism. And good genetics. I thank my mama everyday for this."

Louis looked down at his blueberry muffin. As good as the food was there, he missed the brownies from Beachwood Cafe. He was certainly the homesick type.

"I can bring you a batch if you promise you won't poison my clients again." Harry replied, making him realize he'd been voicing his thoughts.

"Look, the dickhead deserved it."

"Yeah, sure. Why did you do that, again?"

"Because he bought every single brownie in the store, of course! It was simply unacceptable." he replied in an ironic tone.

Harry raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced.

"Good morning, boys! Ready for the photoshoot?" their photographer, Mark greeted them cheerfully.

"Readier than ever!" Louis said, draping an arm over Mark's shoulder.

"Is that even a word?" Harry raised an eyebrow while drinking the last sip of his vanilla flavored cafe au lait.

"It is now!"

. . .

Harry wasn't sure that there existed a shade of blue in the world that could conquer the older boy's eyes. They were so unbelievably blue, so deep and overridden by mysteries and playful mischief that they put to shame every pantone shade of blue he had ever seen. He wasn't sure there was any word that could describe the beauty in front of him, but he was completely certain that this view would be the death of him: Louis, sitting on an ashen-colored rock, wearing nothing but an oversized taupe faux fur coat, with his hair tousled by salty water and summer breeze. His eyes were emphasized by a thick line of black eyeliner and high cheekbones were dusted ever so lightly with silver highlighter. All of a sudden, his bright-colored, patterned Gucci shirt and the pink glitter surrounding his eyes seemed so mundane.

The beauty of Turks and Caicos was long forgotten. 

"Boys, I'm afraid there's rain coming for the next few days, so we won't be able to get anything done." Mark said, pointing towards stormy clouds approaching the island, darkening the topaz sky. "Luckily we've finished most of the photo ideas miss Wintour sent. We're all done for today." 

"This calls for celebratory cocktails! Mark, Harold, see you at the bar at 8?" Louis said, running a hand through his hair and wincing slightly when he tugged at the caramel strands.

"Sounds good to me." The photographer shrugged his shoulders, packing up the equipment.

"Perfect."

. . .

Starlit Martini glasses stood on the beach bar while lighthearted conversation and chirping of crickets filled the chilly air. Louis was on his third Cosmopolitan, his cheeks painted in a soft bloody red and heart skipping multiple beats at once. Mark was long gone back to his room, leaving only him and Harry on the beach.

 _"You're so goddamn beautiful"_ were the only words echoing over and over again in his head as he watched the younger boy with glazed over eyes.

He tucked a curl behind Harry's ear. He wasn't tipsy, not even close, yet liquid courage streamed in his veins. He felt _alive_. For a moment, the world didn't matter; nor did Paris Fashion Week or the covers of a hundred magazines he could win. All he wanted was to listen to the younger boy's almost-whispered words, as if everything he was saying was a secret meant to be kept between them. 

3 a.m. approached quickly as the boys exchanged knowing glances. None of them was quite brave enough to say the words, so instead they just made small talk.

"Do you believe in soulmates, Louis?" Harry said, his tone changing into a more serious one, eyes scanning over the older boy's face, waiting for his reaction.

"I don't believe in love, Harry."  
" _Or at least I didn't."_ he wanted to say.

Emerald gaze fell down, looking at a stray pebble. "Why? Why would you say that when love's the only reason worth living for?"

"Because there's too much tragedy in loving someone. Because love is so much more wicked than it seems; it ignites a flame inside of you and then burns your soul to pieces. Love is indeed worth living for, but is it worth dying for, too?"

"Love's not at all as ugly as you may think .There's beauty worth feeling that comes with love, with finding your soulmate. And maybe a little death is worth it, as well."

"And what if soulmates don't always end up together? What if there's no happy ending to it all?"

"Then it's not the end. Love is worth all the pain it comes with, in the end."

Louis rested his head on Harry's shoulder. He could almost hear a steady heartbeat. A small droplet of rain fell on his lips.

 _"You're worth all the pain."_ Harry wanted to say.

Instead, he guided both of them inside the hotel room, not saying a word. That night, flowers bloomed wildly inside his chest, and all he wanted was to hold the half-asleep boy next to him and show him the beauty of love. 

"You have no idea how lovely you are, Louis." he said before falling into deep slumber.

. . .

''Teach me how to do that!" Louis said, laughing loudly.

"It's easy. Just twist this" -- the younger boy motioned to the stem of a yellow flower-- "underneath the other's. And there you have it, your own handmade flower crown." 

He placed the carefully crafted crown on top of Louis' soft hair. 

"You look like a sunflower." 

"A sunflower? Why would I?" the older boy asked, puzzled. 

"I don't know. There's something about you that just reminds me of a sunflower. Hey, do you listen to dancehall?" he took a polaroid selfie of both of them.

"You can keep it sweet in your memory now. And what kind of question is that?" Louis asked, still smiling. "But to answer your question, yes, I do...sometimes."

"I'm just trying to get to know you."

"You're a weird human being, Harry Styles. And you already know me." 

Harry looked at the older boy's dark circle-rimmed blue eyes. Louis' tired eyes would be the death of him one day. 

. . .

Harry's eyes trailed down the fogged up window; small droplets of salty water danced their way down, melting into the cashmere sand. It had been raining all day, the soft, summer-scented, sunset-tinted drizzle growing more and more into the downpour that kept the boys locked inside their hotel room for days on end.

The low rumble of guitar chords entwined with the sound of rain could be heard in the distance, where Louis strummed away mindlessly, fingertips bringing to life a familiar melody. It sounded like "A little death" by the Neighbourhood, he noticed.

"I never knew you could play the guitar." the younger boy said while lightning a driftwood perfumed candle. "Keep playing, though. I love this song."

Ocean blue eyes focused on him. There was something inside of them, a glint of mischief and electricity that made Harry fuzzy on the inside. "It comes to me naturally, I guess."

Tension had been building between them more and more with each moment that passed. They were going to combust soon, both of them could feel it.

Harry sat down next to Louis on the fluffy carpet, admiring the peacefulness written all over their beings. For the first time in what felt like forever, they weren't arguing. Minutes passed by as both models sat there, feeling at ease. When the delicate chant eventually came to an end, Harry broke the deafening silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

Louis put down his guitar. "Sure."

"Do you hate me? Because it doesn't feel like it anymore."

"I don't, really. Not at all. Never did, to be honest with you." the older boy sighed. "It's just... complicated."

"We insist on making it complicated, though."

"You wouldn't understand it, Harry."

"I do, though," he replied, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "We have it all. We have everything we want, yet we let it go to waste. Just look around us, Louis: this place is our chance to do whatever we want. We are young, wild and free. Look at me, look into my eyes and tell me there is isn't something you want to do and you don't."

Warm candlelight lit up the older boy's sharp features and in that moment, he looked so fragile and defeated that Harry wanted to wrap his arms around him and mend every broken piece of his soul.

A peculiar feeling tugged at his insides as he sketched a mental image of Louis, wanting to engrave his angelic features into the depths of his mind forever.

Green met blue as their foreheads touched. "There's one thing I've wanted to do for a long time." was the last thing Harry heard before a pair of warm lips collided with his and he could feel the unsureness in the feather-light kiss.

"I knew it was a bad idea." Louis said, parting their lips. "I'm sorry."

Harry pulled him back, pouring all the unsaid words inside the kiss. It was innocent, at first. It was just two boys, too young and too naïve to be playing a losing game with a thing as dangerous as fate.

But Harry didn't care. Electric shivers ran down his spine as their movements became sloppier, tongues dancing hotly in a ballet of their own. A low grunt escaped his lips as Louis tugged at chocolate curls.

"If you want to stop, just say it. Just tell me you don't want all of this and we'll pretend it never happened."

An answer never came.

The boys reconnected their lips in a frantic kiss, hands tugging hungrily at the wet pieces of fabric that hid behind them hot skin. The younger boy's back hit a wall, curls falling into his eyes while Louis peppered kisses and lovebites on his milky white skin.

"I need you. I need you so fucking bad." he said between breathy moans.

Louis looked at him with blown out pupils, dark blue almost lost entirely in his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Always have been."

That was all it took for the older boy to lift him up and lay him on the king sized bed, their lips never parting. He fumbled with the zipper of the black skinny jeans, throwing them on the floor. The gray boxer briefs hugged Harry's crotch in the most unholy way possible and Louis knew he was utterly damned when he pulled them down to the younger boy's muscular thighs.

He kitted-licked the tip first, teasing the writhing mess of a boy under him, making him want more.

"Please, Louis."

He wrapped his fingers around Harry's thick cock, licking a long stripe along the underside of it. Precum bubbled at the tip and Louis bent down to taste it, licking around the head. He took all of it in, hollowing his cheeks and tears as he bobbed his head. A soft moan ringed deep in his throat as Harry bucked his hips up.

Louis looked up at the younger boy and he wanted to destroy him completely, to turn him into a mess of curls and tears of pleasure.

"Hold still." he said as he lowered his head, kissing at the other's hole. "You're so beautiful, baby. Missed you so much."

Harry sucked at the two digits pressed against his red lips and soon after he felt the first finger pressed deep inside of him. He arched his back, begging for more, feeling already so close to release.

Three fingers were soon pumping in and out of his tight hole, brushing right against his prostate, heat pooling at his lower abs. "Oh my god, Louis. I'm ready, baby. So close."

Louis removed his fingers and searched through his luggage for a small bottle of cherry-flavored lube and a condom. He found them, placing the packet between the green eyed boy's lips, ripping the foil with his teeth.

"Let me." Harry said, wrapping the condom around Louis' shaft, pumping a few times. He warmed up some lube between his hands, slicking up the older boy's dick.

"Tell me if you need to stop. Come here, baby."

The younger boy draped his muscular thighs around Louis', lowering himself slowly, licking hotly into his mouth. Breathy moans were exchanged between them as Louis filled him up in the most perfect way, hitting all the right spots. They started moving slowly, bodies in perfect rhythm as if they were made for each other. "More, babe. Faster."

Louis lifted Harry, pulling away from the kiss for a brief second. "Hands and knees, baby."

As the older boy elicited sweet moans and breathy whispers of adoration which would be buried deep between them, he was sure he reached heaven. Yet, Harry was too much of a beautiful sin to be heaven; his eyes were a bit too green and lustful in the tropical moonlight and his body too appealing to sit next to angels; no, he was a walking paradox, a child of light that had a little too much darkness hidden inside his appearance to be crafted by heavenly creatures.

"You're too good to be real, baby. So tight." He moaned loudly, pulling at the boy's long curls. Heat and sweat was mixed with the younger boy's screams, his ringed fingers gripping the white bedsheets.

"I'm close. Come with me." Louis said, hitting the other's boy prostate a few more times before his movements came to an end, while thick white ribbons painted over Harry's chest and the bed.

"Just wanna be good for you, Lou." Harry said a few moments later , wiping his burning skin with a t-shirt.

"You are, baby. You're perfect."

The boys stood in silence, cuddling each other while listening to the rain outside. Their frantic breaths slowed down sleepily with each passing minute.

"I want to take you on a date, Harry. When we go back home. A proper one, like dinner in a nice restaurant."

Harry looked up at the older boy.

"What about the management? What about the people around us? What will they say?"

"I don't care. Only want you, with me. Wanna travel the world with you, wanna be close to you. Fuck them. Ever since that first night, I knew it was you— you make me feel things, Harry; no matter how hard I tried to forget the party, no matter how many people I met, they weren't you. Nobody compares — and yes, I'm scared, I'm so damn scared that I'll ruin our careers, but earning a place in the Paris Fashion Week isn't worth losing you."

"Then take me on dates around the world and make love to me in every hotel room."

"I will, baby. Soon."

. . .  
May 24, 2020   
09:50 a.m

"Hurry up, we have to go to the airport in 10 minutes."

"Can I stay here forever? I love this place, Lou." Harry said, looking at his boyfriend with a pleading look. 

"I wish we could, but we have classes on Tuesday, remember?" he kissed the younger boy softly.

Boyfriend. A month ago, Louis would have laughed at anyone who would have mentioned this but now, with cyan seas, sky-high palm trees and ethereal beauty around them, it seemed so natural. Between cyan seas and white sands, warm kisses and intertwined fingers, everything seemed easy. And even between tall buildings, a whole team of protein shakes powered football players and international runways, it seemed a lot less complicated than ever before.

A loud honk signaled that their driver was there to pick them up. Harry wiped a small tear. 

"We'll come back, right?" he said, his nose a bit runny from tears.

"Whenever you want."

Their little escapade was over, but their love story had just began.

. . .

"Missed you, bro. The house is so quiet without you in it. I mean, not really quiet 'cause we're like 11 in there, but we missed your terrible baking skills and loud alarms in the morning." Liam said, hugging Louis tightly.

"Liam lasted two days before he came over at ours. We really missed you, boys."

After hugging Liam and Zayn, the boys exchanged a knowing look.

"We have something to tell you."

Zayn raised an eyebrow curiously. "Go on..."

"We're together. Like, together, together." the couple replied in unison, waiting for their friends' reactions.

"Finally! I told you! You owe me 50 bucks. Oh and call Niall, 'cause he owes me a hundred!"

"Please tell me you didn't make a bet." Louis said, rolling his eyes and hiding a smile.

"We sure did. Now give me my 50 bucks, Zayn."

. . .

"I just can't do this anymore, Louis. I haven't slept in three days, I'm still jet lagged as fuck and the deadline is tomorrow." Harry said, plopping back on his bed. "Can't you come over? Just for a bit, please?"

"If I came over, you wouldn't get anything done. Your education is important, too, you know that, right?"

"I know... but i just want you here. Keep me company, that's all I'm asking for."

"Okay... fine. But bring brownies."

"Sure will."

The line went dead a few seconds later. Harry was beyond stressed out, all of the months of neglecting school catching up to him.

He put the laptop on the floor, entering the bathroom. In the mirror, a ghostly version of the model stared back. Dark blue circles shadowed the pale green of his eyes; prominent cheekbones looked even more hollowed, mahogany curls were a mess and his skin looked terribly washed-out, no longer dusted a healthy pink. He splashed some cold water, hoping that at least that would make him look more alive and well.

"Oh God, baby, come here." soft strawberry scent engulfed him.

He had always loved Louis' scent, even though he wouldn't admit it. There was something so warm about the musk, boy and strawberry. Louis smelled like warmth; he felt like that, too.

"I can't do this anymore, Lou."

"You can't dropout. I won't let you."

"Why though? Modeling works well for us now."

Louis sighed and hugged the boy just a little bit tighter. "Because you love poetry. And all the other courses you're taking. Just because it feels rough now doesn't mean that it'll always be this way."

A soft muffle, then a tear stain on his gray T-shirt. "Don't cry, Harry."

"I just— I feel so exhausted all the time lately. We couldn't even go on our date because all I do is stay inside and write stupid papers I don't even care about."

Louis wiped the tears under his boyfriend's eyes. He felt his heart break a little more with each tear that stained Harry's cheeks.

"Do you know what you need?" The younger boy looked at him curiously with reddened eyes. "A cup of hot cocoa. Just like my grandma used to make for us in the winter."

The boys went downstairs, where an empty bowl of brownie batter sat on the countertop. "You made brownies."

"You told me to bring some."

"Thank you, baby." Louis kissed the younger boy's forehead. "Now, sit down, and watch the magic happen."

. . .

"I don't know what you put in this—" Harry took another small sip "— but it's heavenly."

"I told you it's really good. Reminds me of home, in a way."

The boys sat on the porch, watching the moon. The air was a bit chilly and a low hum of birds could be heard faintly.

"What is it like? Your home."

Louis looked down, smiling.

"It's like the feeling of endless summer. People say it's not as fashionable as it seems, living your whole life in California. But it's magical, really. My home wasn't near the beach or anything, but my sisters and I used to ride our bikes there everyday. We always raced and I always let them win." he took a breath in, nostalgia washing over him. "They're away in Europe now. Haven't spoken to them in a few months."

"Tell me about Christmas. About your childhood. About anything."

"Christmas was always an army of sleepy kids opening packages as tall as them. It was family just being close together. My mom used to bake these thin cinnamon cookies, they were absolutely amazing — we used to eat a whole tray by ourselves, then go out and build snowmen until our fingers were too cold for us to feel them anymore."

"Sounded fun enough."

"It was. It really was. Home meant sunbathing in the garden until our skin was golden and eating freshly picked cherries or popsicles. It meant endless matches of football and scratched knees, until one day we all grew up."

"Do you want kids, Lou?" Harry asked, shifting closer towards the older boy.

"Yeah, yeah, definitely. Three or four, I think."

"Even as young as you are?"

With a soft kiss that hid behind a thousand unsaid words, the older boy replied.

"Always."


End file.
